


I Like You a Latte

by 7H3_4RCH1V157



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: AU, Cops vs Mafia, Karen - Freeform, M/M, Multi Universe, Other, Tags will be added, coffee shop AU, dragonformers, slight slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:46:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27235981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7H3_4RCH1V157/pseuds/7H3_4RCH1V157
Summary: Life was routine for cafe worker Steve: he would wake up, get dressed, went to work, go home, sleep. Repeat. But when a new regular customer began his own routine at his little coffee shop, Steve was immediately enthralled with him. Sure, he complained regularly about their services and food items but there was just so special about him that Steve just couldn’t shake.And that’s because his interest was no other than Starscream, second hand to Lord Megatron of the Decepticon mafia that has been in a notorious conflict with the Autobot police department. Conflict between the two sides of the city clash and unfortunately, Steve’s little coffee shop may get caught in the middle of this war. Despite this, he is desperate to get Starscream away from it all.
Relationships: Knockout/Breakdown, Megatron/Starscream, Starscream/Steve the Eradicon
Kudos: 13





	1. Prologue

Once the brain has registered the pattern of sleep and an alarm system, it often predicts when it goes off yet will rouse you from your slumber before the intruding noise that might shock your poor peaceful brain into awaking violently.  
This is what happened to 5T3V3 as he lay in the darkness of his room, staring at the cracked ceiling above him. The fridge rattled loudly to life in the kitchen. That was his alarm and it seemed as though his brain won this morning, even if it was three in the morning. Knowing well enough that he would not be able to go back to sleep despite not having to go to work within the next megacycle, 5T3V3 stood up from his berth and stretched before opening the shades of his room window. The pale yellow lighting came through and he saw the familiar yet sparse streets outside. The glow of the other side of town could be made out from over the buildings, busy with life already despite Luna 1 and 2 still within the dark sky. Sometimes Steve often wondered what it looked like as he never had a chance to see the more luxurious side of town since the grounder was only a lower class Vehicon with a minimum wage job with bills to pay. He often would daydream about it, if he had another life: to be a richer Cybertronian within the classy world of fortune like a few that would often breeze into his shop.  
Speaking of which, this began his normal morning routine to preparing for the day ahead. Stepping away from the window instead for his tiny closet, 5T3V3 pulled out his uniform and began to fit into it. It was the same black button up shirt that he’s been wearing for the past countless stellar cycles, accustomed holes on the backs of the shirt to allow his shoulder plating through. It took 5T3V3 eternal months of his first year of working to perfect the trick of fitting the hard, curved protrusions into the rather small hole by himself (since he lived by himself). The finishing touch was the small metal name tag that said “Steve”.  
Despite sometimes working the kitchen, 5T3V3 had the unchanging, lame breakfast of just a bowl of Rustee Crunch cereal. Of course he would later eat something better from the shop but it was just to hold him over until break or when no one was looking.  
The purple drake grabbed the rest of his essentials and went out the door, making sure the lock completely turned before he left. No one else was in the halls as it was too early (4:27 to be precise) for any of the tenets of Circuit Heights. The sounds of the now more active streets came to Steve as he stepped into the frigid air of the morning. The shop was not too far from where he lives, about a half hour walk from Circuit Heights to the Cup of Energon since it was a few blocks away. The further he strode away from his home, the more lively it became in color and other draconians roamed the streets. He watched as a trine of seekers zip overhead in a V formation, wearing their warning lights on their wing and tail tips that blinked in the predawn dark. Sometimes 5T3V3 wishes he could be a seeker instead of a grounder. Flying looked and sounded so exciting and free, as described by his flyer friend Bailey.

Now, the Cup of Energon was located within the middle of the city, making business successful for all parties and opened within an hour. It was a place that radiated welcoming air even if it was quite a small establishment, with it’s well kept vines creeping and weaving in the black steel bars of the wraparound fencing and open bay windows that revealed the shops insides. Steve took out his keys and unlocked the doors with his employee copy since he was always the first one there.  
Then began the opening setup of the shop: Flicking on the lights that glowed with white light. Preheating the ovens to the appropriate temperature. Taking the chairs off the three tables, almost set in same V formatting of the seekers 5T3V3 saw earlier. Restocking the condiments table that provided powered creamers and sugar and straws. He took out the prepared pastries from the freezer and put them into the warm oven, creating its alluring smell to waft through the air.  
The door bell tinkled while 5T3V3 resumed the display case with food. In walked his co-workers, Bailey and Arthor.  
“Good morning guys,” 5T3V3 greets.  
Bailey smiles with their red eyes. Arthor gave a small wave of his talons.

The similarities between him and his co-workers was almost uncanny. Most customers would often mistake one for the other since they were practically clones with dark violet scales and red eyes along with the same body type. Only regulars knew that Bailey obviously was the flyer with wings. Arthor has a jagged scar on his left shoulder plating from something that he would never talk about. Steve had no remarkable traits but at least had his name tag.

“Hey Steve,” Arthor said in his monotone tenor. “Did you do everything, again?”  
Steve sheepishly nodded. “Yeah. I woke up really early today.”  
Bailey bumped into Steve with their head to get his attention. They proudly showed off a new painting depicting a colorful sunset of brilliant pinks, reds, and yellows with the tall silhouettes of the dark blue Cybertronian buildings as a foreground.  
“Oh wow. That’s beautiful Bae,” praises Steve. “Where was this taken from?”  
“East side,” they told him. Bailey barely used their voice, only to regard customers but was always soft and slightly raspy.  
“It should go into the east wall then. I’m sure the boss won’t mind another painting,” he told them.  
Bailey flushed as they took their painting back to hang it on the far wall next to the condiment tray. The rich coffee brown walls were decorated with many of Bailey’s personal paintings, their subjects always being Cybertron scenery or strange abstract. The boss doesn’t mind since it makes the shop feel more classy.

As soon as the holosign was flipped on and the neon window light glowed “OPEN”, did the morning rush came with busy Cybertronians bustling in and out as the three of them worked through the waves of ordered for hot caffeinated drinks and warm to-go food. As the clock ticked several hours later into noon did the rush finally trickled into only a few customers who preferred to lounge in the quaint cafe. A collective sigh of relief went over the trine of workers.  
“I hate the morning rush,” grumbled Arthor as he mopped at a puddle of what once was a medium latte with whip, leaving the tiles sticky until the mop head went over it with clean water.  
“It will be your break shift in a megacycle,” Steve shot back from behind the counter. “You have the first break!”  
“But then I have to work through the rest of the day working non stop,” Arthor complained, looking as though he was done with the day despite it just starting.  
“If you don’t like the hours then leave me and Bailey to pick up your slack,” Steve said hotly. “Just quit already.”  
“I have a record,” the other drake growled, harshly shoving the mop bucket into the storage closet. “And I’m sure as Pit that I’m not going back to my old job.”  
Bailey came back from receiving a new order, giving it to Steve to retrieve (and perhaps calm the situation).  
“Where did you work before?” they quietly asked. “I know you don’t like to talk about it...”  
Arthor relaxed his shoulders slightly at Bailey. “Just a lot of dark stuff, Bae. Stuff that I obviously don’t want to talk about.” And he left it at that as someone else came into the shop, stepping towards them to get their order.  
Steve came back with Bailey’s order and watched them deliver it to the table on the right side of the shop to a racer looking drake. His scales were black and had sleek, vibrant blue lines going along his body. Probably taking part of the illegal street racing that happens on the outskirts of the city.

Sometimes Steve likes to imagine being in another dragons talons, to run scenarios of how they might live and go through out their day. From a boring office job but returning home to a loving partner or racing other seekers in the skies above with powerful wings. Or even being a seasoned pro in the Autobot Police Department or a spy for the Decepticon Mafia...  
Steve knew it was all very impossible, that they were just fun little imaginings in his bored head but what if he did? Life would be so much more exciting than this. At least he isn’t dead like some bodies reported around some shadowy corners or in a street gutter. (Sometimes he would morbidly imagine what it would be like to be a dead body. It is not very exciting but very sad at least.)

The words “sometimes”, “or”, and “maybe” are all very powerful as they are unpredictable to whatever outcome that was asked within a question most of the time or a statement. It could be good. It could be bad.  
Maybe it could all be very real for 5T3V3 due to the butterfly effect. Sometimes it takes something as simple as a cup of coffee to bring up many events to come to the boring drake. To bring these two dragons within each other’s lives and to create a deadly snowball effect due to just being a little too close.


	2. Chapter One

It was just a normal solar cycle like every other: get up, set up, morning rush, boredom, lock up, go home, sleep, repeat. The same routine that the violet grounder had been repeating for his many years, it all beginning to blend together in a blurry haze. Excitement only came when unruly, entitled customers that were a regular occurrence came into the coffee shop to cause a ruckus and the three workers would often compared as who had the worst encounter.   
Today was one of those encounters before even the early surge and Arthor was up front manning the counter. The dragon was a seeker, tall and lean with his large wings hooded in a half hearted fold. A crisp black suit covered his silver and grey scales, bright red markings accenting the plating ridge along his neck. Black eyes with glowing red irises glared at Arthor. By the way he held himself, the seeker must be from the wealthy side of Jasper and knew it well.   
The purple drake twitched at the counter, but made the copied and pasted customer greeting. “Good morning sir. May I have your order–“   
“One medium triple expresso shot iced cold brew. Salted caramel and chocolate drizzle. No whip,” the silver seeker interrupted. He ordered his drink quickly and coldly with no regard to the barista’s ability to follow along.   
Thankfully Arthor had enough work experience to catch each detail for his drink and punched in the order into the register. Along with being in one of his particularly sour moods, the drake was not having it today.  
“That will be seven eighty-nine,” Arthor told him with about the same amount as flatness as the seeker gave him. “And what is your name for when we finish your order?”   
He huffed. “Starscream.”   
As soon as Arthor took the order, he stumbled into the kitchen where Steve was operating the day’s food. Steve already knew from his suddenly fearful face that it was bad as Arthor leaned over a stainless steel counter with bated breathe, shoulders trembling. Usually Bailey would handle one of these episodes, but they were terribly late that morning and was not here.   
“Take this one,” Arthor gasped. “Please Steve.”   
“I will. Just stay back here until you’re okay,” Steve nodded.   
He swiftly scurried in front, following the order to a tee. His talons moved the cup with ease, pressing the right buttons with the needed amount of ingredients to fulfill the request. Once capped, Steve took it to the pick-up side of the counter, looking at the tag on the cup for the name (even though there was only one or two customers present).   
“Order for... Starscream,” called out Steve.   
The silver dragon strode up to the counter, a light snarl on his snout.   
“About time,” he huffs. “If you took any longer then I would have been late for work, you bumbling moron. And one other thing...”   
But Steve was not listening to the complaint or degenerative name calling as he stared at the customer in awe. There was something so captivating about him. 

Now, Steve has never really had a type when it comes to romance and always thought that the notion of “love at first sight” was a hilarious trope. However as he stared longer though, the more his heart thumped in his chest feeling the organ vibrating his ribs and create a blue flush to creep into his face. Could Starscream possibly hear his racing heart from across the glass countertop or above his (long) tirade? By Primus, he was a complete stranger that put his friend into a panic attack but here he was Steve nervous over the fact that the silver stranger would hear his beating spark (of all things)!

He stopped the one sided staring contest when he realized that Starscream had stopped his bad mouthing as he glared back at him with those pitched eyes with fierce glowing red orbs, obviously expecting some kind of reaction.   
“Y-Yes!” the worker spluttered at last, setting the cup down towards its customer. “Your medium triple expresso shot iced cold brew with salted caramel and chocolate drizzle. Whip held. Sir.”   
Starscream gave a disheartened snort. “You better have gotten this right or I will demand a full refund and take my business elsewhere,” he sneered, ignoring Steve’s flustered state. His long black claws grasped the plastic coffee filled cup, which Steve utterly forgot to let go of (having been lost in the moment) and their talons touched. The drake felt his spark swell brightly at the mere touch of this stranger. He thought he was going to faint.   
Though Starscream thought much differently as he jerked his talon away, now with a more enraged expression, fangs flashing as his muzzle crumpled.   
“I will not tolerate being harassed!” he barked. “I will bring this up to your manager–“ The seeker paused as he abruptly searched for his name tag. “Steve!”   
With a angry lash of his silver tail, Starscream stormed out of the building and into the dawning sky, with his drink. 

It wasn’t long before Bailey came in and managed to ease Arthor just as the morning scramble began, busying all three into a (thankfully distracting) mind numbing state as they continued their work into the middle of the day. Despite trying to figure out what had happened to Arthor and coax him to tell them, he utterly refused and shut down on both of his friends. The day became more quieter due to this, as they all usually kept to themselves anyway, all though this left Steve to wonder back to the handsome stranger.   
Starscream. He played the name over and over again within his mind, beginning his internal predictions of what that seeker does during his day. Maybe he worked one of those desk jobs but the really nice ones, a CEO of his own company. It was the only thing that came to mind as it kept waywardly pondering of how Steve could get to know this guy more. He wanted to know, needed to know. This was the only connection Steve has ever felt for anyone within the entirety of Cybertron and he was not going to let him slip through his talons so easily. However, all he could do is hope that he came back to either complain to his manager as promised or forget everything and order again while Steve would be more prepared. Maybe. He really hoped so. 

Starscream straightened his ruffled wings as he strode through the doors, not regarding the two guards posted there. His coffee was cold in his clenched paw, the condensation almost making it slip from his grasp. Thankfully no one was at the elevator yet and perhaps he could slip into his office before being completely noticed. But foot soldiers were already busy delivering information and energon throughout the multi floored building, one of them forwarded a datapad into Starscream’s awaiting paw as he waited for the elevator. It read about the current cases that the Autobot Police Department was currently working on, having cracked down on one of their weapons dealing near the docks and looking into the missing cache of experimental red energon infused medicines.   
He swore under his breathe. Megatron, Lord Megatron, would not be so pleased nor their associate.   
The dark steel doors opened with a ding and Starscream stepped inside. As it jerked upwards, he pondered another way of delivering a different weapons cache where they needed to go: maybe they needed better flyers to drop them into the dark oily waters of Lake Petro. That sounded like a better idea as the associate could easily hire a couple aquatic Cybertronians to pluck the packages up and safely deliver them back.   
The metal box came to a stop. Starscream looked at the displayed screen. Floor seven. The seeker took a deep breathe that turned into an annoyed sigh. The bright red doctor deftly came into the elevator with him, a mischievous smile on his face.   
“Good morning, Screamer,” Knockout sang. “You’re only a half an hour late but I’m sure the Big M won’t mind, as usual.”   
“Hello Knockout,” Starscream grimaced, knowing that he would be reminded of his tardiness. He took a sip from his (almost forgotten) drink to distract himself. The cool caffeinated drink was surprisingly good, at least this will give him the boost Starscream needed.   
The other noticed. “Ooooo. Did you go to a new place? Is that why you’re late?” Knockout questioned firmly.   
Starscream took another sip, longer this time. “Maybe.”   
The red grounder laughed. “You should take me too. I love going out for coffee.”   
“The customer service is questionably slag,” he told his companion.   
“I heard that the second time’s the charm,” Knockout assures.   
The small talk died into nothing while the elevator hefted the two Decepticons upwards to the very top. Knockout picked a piece of invisible lint from his maroon colored suit, adjusting the cuff of his left sleeve.   
“Me and Breakdown are going clubbing tomorrow. Want to come?” he asked.   
Starscream finished his coffee, reading the moist label to further distract himself from the reignited conversation and instead was planning his silvery words of excuse for Megatron.   
“No,” he responded flatly. “I’m too busy rearranging troops this week.”   
The red racer shrugged his plated shoulders. “Don’t say that I tried.”   
The elevator dinged again, displaying the floor level as it stopped. Floor ten. The ride was much more faster than it usually was but Starscream gathered whatever anxiety and fear that had been creeping up his chest and instead replaced it with a confident smile. He breathed a plume of fire into his paw, waiting until the flames made the plastic melt into a small puddle on the floor and left the mess for the dragons in sanitation to clean up.  
He flicked his wings to waft the smoke away, not caring of the confined space to hit Knockout beside him. “Let’s see what today’s agenda is, good doctor?”   
Knockout made a sound that was both annoyed yet amused as the doors slid open. Their foot thumps practically echoed in the empty hallway towards the grand entrance of Lord Megatron’s “throne” room. The red light fixtures were quite dramatic and impractical in Starscream’s option, but gave it the eerie feeling of a horror movie. Despite the millions of times coming down this same hallway, Starscream always schemes for Megatron’s downfall (and he would finally get rid of those horrid lights). 

In Starscream’s opinion, he would run the Decepticons much better than his lord. Instead of the pathetic back and forth with the infuriating Autobots, Starscream would take his fleet and wipe them out and finally take the entire city for himself and those who really deserved it. It would be clean and swift.  
The second in command can see what their war is doing to the city around them, he sees it every time he flies to the Nemesis. Whole buildings and streets become demolished in a single battle when they clash, bringing even more economic damage to their fragile balance that they’d created. At this rate it would be nothing but a pile of useless rumble when they finally claim a victor. The wealthy only stay wealthy (and safe) because some of them are smart enough to know who the winning team is. This also applied to business’ that seek their protections from unaligned thugs that terrorized them. It was easy work really. And Megatron would keep it this way until the Autobots crumbled into nothing. Starscream wanted to change things and run them right just like before this war began. 

This is why he strived to overthrow Megatron for many years now. Unfortunately, the warlord was always a step ahead to his plans and assassination attempts. The one to be blamed for that is Soundwave possibility, always watching and listening for his beloved lord. Despite always trying to kill him, Megatron keeps Starscream around still more like a trophy than a commander, to show his Decepticons that he was indeed merciful and Starscream’s own stupidity for being so damn predictable at times. 

Starscream steadied his twitching tail, setting his wings back into a self-assured arch to show just how comfortable he was as the doors slid open for them both. The throne room was the largest and spacious area within the building that was not used for storage, more so that Megatron would hold vast meetings if need be that everyone must attend to. This is why a portion of the floor was raised and presented the infamous Lord Megatron upon his tall, dark chair of fine craftsmanship and power. The (thankfully not red) overhead lighting showed the towering dragon, his scales as cold grey as a dead Cybertronian with scars to match, leaning upon his talon, looking as though he was waiting specifically for Starscream and Knockout. Soundwave was ever present at his side, several projected holoscreens suspended around his blank face with a larger one displayed for Megatron. The illusions disappeared upon their arrival, flickering away like frightened bolt hares.   
Starscream knew he must keep all of his securities up now within the wyvern’s presence. He has the rare ability to read minds after all, his ultimate tool to sabotage Starscream repeatedly.   
With his mental barriers secured, Starscream began his blithe approach.   
“Lord Megatron,” he regarded, bowing shallowly to Megatron. Knockout gave a deeper bow next to him.   
“Do not bore me with another tale of your absence Starscream,” Megatron growls. “I’m sure you are aware of our current situations.” He gestures to the datapad tucked under his arm.   
“Very so,” Starscream confirmed. “And I have a plan to keep the weapons from the Autobots of course.”   
“But what about the medicine?” challenged Knockout. “That’s my own project to help our armies and allies. That stuff will be able to heal our forces thrice as fast as regular procedures.”  
Starscream threw a glare at the medic. “I can only think of so many plans in five minutes but rest assured that it will be handled. Right now those Autobrats only have fragging crumbs to work with thus far.”   
The red drake huffed in distaste, though dared not to lose his cool in front of Megatron. Only showing his frustration as Knockout crossed his arms.   
Lord Megatron nods. “I’m sure Swindle would be cross to know that his weapons were to be in the clutches of Optimus Prime. Do brief me in your plans so that I may expect what forces you require.”   
A shiver went down Starscream’s spine, only showing in an uneasy swish of his tail.   
“Yes master,” he confirmed.   
“You’re all dismissed,” Megatron commands with a flex of his talons. 

The three commanders; Starscream, Soundwave, and Knockout exited the throne room in silence. The blue wyvern slipped into the shadows of a corner and vanished completely to his domain.   
Knockout left Starscream with a friendly jab of his elbow.   
“Maybe I should get in some of that action you plan on,” he chortled. “But really consider tomorrow.” He then left for his medical bay where Knockout undoubtedly had his own work cut out for himself.   
Starscream was glad to lock himself in his office and get lost in the paperwork and future rescue missions. Chicken scratch writing was scribbled on datapads which were transferred to a larger display screen, details of his current strategy being the weapons cache as it was more crucial. As much as he would like to do them alone with his loyal fleet of flyers, Starscream obviously had to run the plans through Megatron for his critique if anything.   
The silver seeker did not want to think about that now, instead going to a different distraction. Should he place that earlier complaint now? Pit, Starscream couldn’t even remember what the place was called as he was in a rush. Maybe he will go back tomorrow just in spite. And a cup of coffee again.


	3. Chapter Two

How excited was Steve when he woke up the very next morning? Extremely.   
Never in his life was Steve so energized to receive a possibly terrible chewing out from a customer or to hear his boss’ long lecture of being on both sides of the plate.   
The violet drake was much quicker to finish his morning ritual for both his home and as soon as he got to Cup of Energon. Steve watched the glass door in almost unrestrained anticipation, tapping his talons on the glass countertop and tail swishing behind him (almost tripping Bailey in the process).   
Past the outside sounds of shuffling, thumping feet and roars was the rhythmic beating of wings. Steve felt his heart began to race like greysteel hounds on the racetrack. Much to his disappointment, it was just a different seeker but nonetheless took their order and delivered it to them.   
As the minutes ticked away to hours, the drake began to lose hope. Maybe he simply had his expectations much too high and should’ve worked himself up so easily. With this in mind, Steve traded shifts with Arthor as he dragged himself around the shop taking orders from those who sat at the tables. Lunchtime had rolled around and it only made business trickle a little faster. As Steve rallied back to the kitchen from giving a regular grounder’s their request, he heard the front door chime. He heard him before he saw him.   
“I demand to see your manager this instant,” decreed a voice. One he immediately recognized. Steve rushes out of the swinging kitchen door that connected between it and the counter station, just as Athor was explaining that she was present within the premises, Steve interrupted by practically shoving his fellow co-worker aside to meet the silver seeker Starscream again. Starscream stood there with a neutral expression, though the corner of his mouth did twitch at Steve’s sudden appearance.   
“You’re drink is on the house. One me: Steve,” the grounder blurted. “As an apology for yesterday, I mean. I’m truly sorry.”   
Starscream tilted his snout up, arms behind his back. Today he wore a steel grey suit with black accents. Steve (shamelessly) stared at Starscream’s deep, narrowed chest that was a presented feature for most flight type Cybertronians, watching as the fabric stretched slightly taut as he took in a breathe to speak.  
“I would much rather speak to your boss but I suppose this small apology will suffice,” Starscream said. “I will have the same as yesterday: a –“   
“Medium triple expresso shot iced cold brew with salted caramel and chocolate drizzle with no whip?” Steve finished. “I’ll get that done in a nanosecond!”   
And it was, done in a flash of movement, possibly being the fastest that Steve has ever done an order. He eagerly presented the cup of cold caffeine to Starscream, this time drawing his talon back to his side of the countertop to reframe from re-enacting the previous incident.   
The seeker only quirked his brow, taking it with no appreciation.   
“Finally, a drake that actually has some brains around here,” Starscream comments before breezing out of the shop, going as soon as he came.   
Someone snorted in distaste behind Steve as he watched him go. Arthor looked no happier than he usually does. Possibly because he was roughly jostled to the side by his own co-worker.   
“That’s one way of keeping customers happy,” Arthor oozed sarcasm.   
“What’s like what? Seven credits from my paycheck going to do?” asked Steve, heading back to finish ordering rounds. But the other drake stopped him by grabbing his wrist, hard.   
“Do not pursue him Steve,” he hissed, red eyes flashing with anger and what almost looked like fear. “Starscream is all kinds of bad news and you do not want to end up on the telescreen dead.”   
Steve snatched his arm back. “How do you know? I’ve only met him once.”   
“Just... trust me please,” his friend plead. Steve can tell that it’s about the thing that Arthor never wants to talk about, as his voice strained to stay composed while giving his warning.   
“Arthor, I’m well old enough to take care of myself if you’re so worried,” he told him. “Besides, you’re not my creator. I can do whatever I want.”   
The other drake snarled. “Fine! If you want yourself killed, so be it!” And with that he angrily stomped off to the staff lounge. Bailey glared at Steve and went after him. 

Steve was bewildered at all this. What was he doing so wrong? By the Primes, even Bailey was mad at him! Though it seems that Arthor is hiding a lot more than he previously thought.  
Maybe all he has to do is shrug it off and hope tomorrow will be just another regular day with less grouchy co-workers. 

Thankfully that was exactly what happened the next day, although the three were much more quieter not wanting to flare up yesterday’s hiss.   
The monotony of the repetitive days returned to their usual routine, solarcycles passed into deca-cycles with no reemergence of Starscream. Though the work did keep Steve busy, the seeker was always in the back of his mind. He kept whatever thoughts of the ravishing Starscream to himself, but Steve liked his secret little crush to whom he has no idea who he is. Though that was the fun, to figure him out someday. 

Arthor called in sick with rusty throat so that only left Steve and Bailey to man the Cup of Energon alone. The day was slow and quiet as per usual, making time seem quick and the time to clock out came. Bailey was particularly chipper since they’d sold several of their paintings.   
“We should go to my buddy’s race today!” they enthused.  
Steve turned around from locking the glass door, setting the keys in his jacket pocket. “A race? Like on the outskirts of town racing?” asked Steve.   
Bailey dramatically rolled their scarlet eyes. “Not that far. It’s nothing special, just an old dusty road. Right next to Trucker’s Farm.”   
“Maybe,” Steve says. “I’ve never actually been to a race so I guess it’ll be exciting.”   
The purple seeker beat their wings excitedly. “Right! Let’s go right now. I’m sure we’ll get there a little early so I can introduce you.” Bailey flapped their wings more until they were in the setting sky. “Follow me!”   
The dragon shot off East towards the setting sun. Steve had to be quick onto his talons, dropping from his bipedal stance into a four footed one to dash down the street. Evening traffic nearly made Steve bump into others who just wanted to go home. Thankfully Bailey watched from above and waited for him until the jam was fixed and they began their trek again.  
The further East the two purple Cybertronians went, the less buildings became apparent as metal and concrete shifted to stone and sand. The clean black pavement under Steve’s feet became worn and pocked with potholes. Soon there was a small light in the distance. The closer they got, the more apparent it became that it was a group of Cybertronians, the early night being lit up with mobile flood lights and natural bioluminescence providing the light to show off the racers. They were predominantly drakes of course, those built for the ground like Steve. He couldn’t help but stare at the other much sleeker, colorful grounders around him. It only made Steve feel slightly self conscious about his much drabber coloration. Perhaps he should invest for a new paint job. Also coming in his work clothes was probably not the greatest display either, Steve still had his name tag on his shirt for Primus sake! Steve tugged his jacket closer to cover the metal tag identification as he and Bailey began to stroll down the line of racers and spectators. The air was lively with excitement and some laughter as everyone conversed with each other before the race.   
His guide gave a squeak before darting, the seeker practically tumbling into a grounder in a flurry of wings. Steve felt his spark jump in fear (and some embarrassment), quickly going after them. To his relief, the two were already happily chatting.   
Much to Steve’s surprise, Bailey’s racer friend looked exactly like him although the slight difference was a black stripe along his neck and belly plating of the racer. Same purple scales and red eyes, even down to the same curve of their shoulder mounting.   
“– came here with my friend Steve,” Bailey was explaining. “Here he is! Steve, this is my friend Diesel. Diesel, meet Steve.”   
Diesel extended his talons out in greeting. “I’ve heard about ya a little,” he admitted. “How’s that little coffee shop going? Heard it’s pretty good.”   
“It’s fine. As long as the rumors are good then I think it is,” Steve told him, taking the talon offered to him.   
The other grounder nods and barked a laugh. “I’ll try to swing by then.”   
“Diesel is the best runner I’ve ever seen,” Bailey interrupts. “Best Vehicon anyway. But I think he has a good chance against these guys.” They gesture with a wing towards the other racers.   
A loud roar cuts through the soft chatter and all of the racers, including Diesel, began to their spots at the starting line.   
“I know a better spot to watch them,” Bailey tells Steve. “Because the road goes straight for a few miles before it turns back around to connect to the main road. And my spot happens to be in the center of the roundabout.”   
“Alright but where –?” Steve’s question was cut off as Bailey swooped down and hooked their talons under his arms, lifting the drake off the ground. He yelped and stayed perfectly still within Bailey’s claws. Thankfully it wasn’t too far nor too high as Steve was dumped on a moderately good sized knoll, enough to see the group of racers and the dark strip of road that ran within the desert night. It wasn’t a very secretive spot it seemed as there were a couple other spectators atop it.   
“I could have climbed up here myself,” Steve protested as Bailey lands next to him.   
“It would have taken too long,” Bailey says. “Flying is faster.”   
A sliver of light suddenly climbed into the sky, disappearing for a moment before exploding into a plume of green. The grounders swiftly took off, paws and talons thumping on the pavement in a dull roar as they streaked forward. Steve made out Diesel within the center of the group, keeping his position there until the racers came to the turn. Most fishtailed, letting momentum throw their bodies around the corner and scramble back onto the road. The violet racer did this as well, except he practically bounded forward in quick jumping motions before arranging his feet to shift into a sprint again. This somehow got him the edge he needed to head the group as they edged back to the starting line, now a finish line. Bailey and Steve were whooping and cheering for him atop their rocky post, eager for Diesel’s inevitable win as he got closer.   
But activity not too far behind him got Steve’s attention. The following drake smashed into the road’s surface and rolled onto the sandy side, bright energon bleeding from his snarling snout. The new second placer galloped next to Diesel and crossed the finish line instead, crimson red scales flashing in the lights. Bailey already took off without Steve, gliding to the finish line to greet their friend and possibly tell him what happened.   
Steve was disgruntled that Bailey left him but paused when there was a huff behind him. A slightly familiar one. Steve used his complete willpower to stay composed as he turned (calmly) to face the sound. There in the natural white light of the moons and stars was Starscream, although less sharply dressed instead with a rolled up dress shirt and fitting dark crimson vest. The silver seeker was incredibly handsome as the light traced his essential features such as his long and sharp jawline, eyes, horns and wings.   
“Such a sore sport,” Starscream grumbled with a slight shake of his head. He caught Steve staring. “What is it?” he asked sharply.   
“N-nothing sir,” Steve blurts, quickly looking for an escape route.   
“Don’t I know you?” mused Starscream as he leaned towards Steve, his wings unfolding until he towered and practically surrounded Steve, pinning him to the rock behind him.   
He was literally speechless, instead resorting to fumble with his black shirt to show the still attached name tag, the engraved metal flashing in the moonlight.   
“Oh yes. From the coffee shop,” Starscream snorts, retracting his wings and setting them back, turning to leave.   
Desperate courage finally willed words from Steve’s mouth. “Where have you been? It’s been a while since I’ve last seen you at the Cup of Energon.”   
“Is that what it’s called?” mused the seeker. “Though it should not concern you, drone, I work myself. I simply have no time to visit your establishment.”   
The grounder scrambled after Starscream, though staying slightly behind him as they walked down the path. “We offer delivery!” Steve added. “If you’re still interested in our business.”   
“I will ponder your offer then,” Starscream says. “I must admit that you do make my coffee just right.”   
Steve felt his spark began to drum at the compliment.   
“If I may ask, why are you here?” Steve asked. “You’re a sophisticated dragon.”   
The silver dragon let a smirk cross his face, his wing set back. “Thank you for noticing. Most may not know that but I am quite a prestigious scientist while also being an air commander.”   
“Wow,” awed Steve. “In what fields? I’d like to hear about what you study and which base you’re set at.”   
“I practiced political and studied various types of energon,” Starscream explained, clicking his claws. “My base is set... elsewhere. You wouldn’t know it.”   
“I’ve lived in Jasper all of my life and pretty sure I know my way around it,” challenged Steve. But the confidence quickly wafered as he muttered to himself, “Then again I’ve never been to one of these races.”  
“Exactly, drone. Even those who are accommodated with their surroundings can be oblivious to changes,” Starscream countered.   
Before Steve could dwell on his statement anymore he brought up the other subject that he asked about.   
“Speaking of races, why are you here again?” asked the violet grounder.   
Starscream’s red irises rolled as he grumbled. “I only came to see my... acquaintance’s performance on the track. As you saw he is quite made for it.”   
The crimson drake that sabotaged the other racer and stole Diesel’s win.   
“Oh so he’s your friend?” Steve inquires. “He really likes to play dirty, doesn’t he?”   
“Despite always wanting to keep his finish in perfect condition, yes he does,” Starscream confirmed.  
The two finally made it back to the crowd, which most were dispersing from now since the race was over. The two moons were high in the black sky. Apparently time seemed much faster overall today. And Steve did not want to leave Starscream’s side. Instead he would rather get lost in the desert listening to Starscream about his life beside him. It sounded incredibly interesting and it seemed as though the seeker rather enjoyed their conversation despite his mostly neutral nature.   
“It was nice meeting –“ But Steve did not get to finish his goodbye as Starscream blatantly left him, quickly disappearing into the group of Cybertronians without another word or glance. This only left him slightly disheartened yet also had a feeling that Starscream did that a lot and just wasn’t one to say goodbyes. 

His friend quickly found him amongst the jumble of drakes and dragons.   
“There you are Starscream,” Knockout exclaimed. “You know, for a seeker you sure got here at a bronze slug’s pace.”   
“Shut up and let’s go,” Starscream snapped.   
“And say nothing about my flawless win?” prods Knockout as they fell into stride, walking back towards the city. The biolights on Knockout’s chest lit up the worn road to evade any kind of objects.  
“Some of your tactics are untypical,” he comments.   
The red drake did a playful circle around Starscream, throwing the light in erratic beams. “I’m a Decepticon. It’s kinda in the name.”   
“I’m about to leave you to walk yourself home,” Starscream growls.   
“Touchy,” the other said, stepping back into their shared pace. “So are we not going to talk about what was holding you up? A flirty racer perhaps that whooed ya?”   
Having enough, Starscream batted Knockout with his wing before taking to the stars above and completely disappeared from view.   
The medic frowned. “Was it something I said?”


End file.
